Bittersweet
by Belle's Noir
Summary: It's Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts and Harry is in the tournament on his father's orders. After all, what better way to announce the return of the Dark Lord and his Heir than with the death of the Boy-Who-Lived? Slash. HP/BCj.
1. Chapter 1

_ AN: This is just a plot bunny I had bouncing round that wouldn't go away. I just love Barty and there are not enough stories with him and Harry._

_ Let me know what you think, this will probably be abandoned if I don't think anyone actually likes it. _

_ This is unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes._

_ Hope you enjoy it!_

_ Hanna xoxo_

***

_**Chapter One**_

"Dad, I'm home!" Harry shouted as he walked into the manor, leaving the house elves to get his trunk out of the coach. Harry looked around his home and grinned, he'd missed this. The manor was opulence at its finest, everything was of the highest quality and nothing but the best was good enough for the Dark Lord and his Heir.

"Harrison." Lord Voldemort swept into the entrance hall and pulled his son into a loving hug. Dark Lord or not, he was affectionate with his son. Even Voldemort knew a child needed care, in fact Voldemort knew that better than most and he made sure his son was never left wanting. Not that his Death Eaters knew this of course, they didn't even know Harry was the Dark Heir. The only one to have ever caught them in a moment of father son bonding hadn't been around long enough afterwards to tell anyone.

Actually he'd been held in their private dungeon until they were in the mood for another bonding activity. There hadn't been much left of him after that.

"How was school?" Voldemort asked, guiding Harry through the maze of corridors and into their private lounge.

"Oh, you know the usual." Harry responded with a careless shrug. "Harry Potter had to be the good little Gryffindor. The old fool wouldn't stop fucking twinkling at me. The mudblood bitch wouldn't stop nagging. The ginger twat still hasn't learnt to eat with his mouth closed but, of course, this year no one could say anything because he's still grieving over the tragic death of poor little Ginevra, the stalker-in-training." He finished his tirade with a wicked smirk, the death of the youngest Weasley was clearly something he was happy about.

"Language, Harry." Voldemort chastised with a chuckle, oh how he had missed his son.

"Sorry, it's just very frustrating." Harry admitted with a sheepish smile. "Oh and I want that potions master dead."

"Harry…"

"Actually, no." The boy interrupted the Dark Lord, the only one who could do so and stay alive. "I want to play with him first. I want to pull out every toe nail and each finger nail one by one. Then maybe the bones. How much would it hurt to have your bones removed without magic? Could we keep him alive while I confiscated his bones?" Harry looked up at the man who had been his father since he was four years old and smiled at the pride he was in those ruby eyes. "After the bones have gone I think I'll play with his intestines a bit. Then he can die. I'm sure I'll be bored by then."

"You've never been this vexed at your professor before, Harry." Voldemort mused with a thoughtful expression on his aristocratic face. "What has he done to incur your ire?"

"Did Sirius arrive safely?" Harry asked instead of answering.

"Yes."

"Did he tell you what happened?"

"No. He gave his assurance that he was innocent as I was reading the note you sent with him but I'm afraid, once he found out my identity, that his panic resulted in him being sedated. After twelve years in Azkaban, we really don't know how much more his heart can take before it will give out."

Harry nodded his understanding. Though he wasn't pleased with the situation, it was better than it could have been. This brought Harry to the point he was making. This was Snape's fault. Sirius would be a free man now if it hadn't been for that greasy git. If he'd only listened straight away instead of needing to be stunned, they could have had everything sorted before the sun went down. They wouldn't have had to face a fucking werewolf.

"Snape's the reason Sirius is still on the run. Despite the fact there was proof, he wouldn't let go of his anger long enough to listen. He's petty vindictiveness almost got us all killed. I don't care how useful he could be when you rise again, he's Dumbledore's man anyway and I want him dead."

"Harry…"

"I want him dead, father." Harry interrupted again. Voldemort was brought up short by his son's use of such a formal endearment. This was important to him.

"As you wish, my son."

Harry's answering smile was one of the most beautiful things Voldemort had ever seen. The entire room lit up and those stunning emerald eyes sparkled with pleasure.

"Thank you, dad." He said softly and sincerely, kissing him father on the cheek.

They settled themselves into their chairs just as a house elf popped into the room with a glass of wine of them each. The rest evening was spent discussing plans for the summer and everything else that had occurred during Harry's third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was decided that they would give Sirius a few more days of peaceful rest before waking up the sleeping wizard. Harry cringed at the thought of his newly discovered Godfather's reaction to the fact that he had been adopted by the Dark Lord himself.

***

It had actually been a complete accident that Voldemort had discovered Harry whereabouts all those years ago. In his bodiless form, he had come across the Dursley's, broken down on a country road as they drove home from visiting Aunt Marge. After he had possessed Vernon Dursley, the Dark Lord had been able to access all of his memories. Imagine his surprise when he found out the location of the boy who'd destroyed him and found out that the boy was kept in a cupboard and knew absolutely nothing of magic.

Voldemort had been enraged. He had tried to kill Harry Potter as an infant to prevent the rise of an enemy, there had been no real cruelty in the act. It had even saddened him to end the life of a child but it had been a sacrifice of war. Now here was that same child being beaten and abused by muggles on Dumbledore's orders, they were even being paid to do it.

How dare pathetic muggles treat a magical child like that? It was disgusting for a muggle to treat a muggle child like that, the offence was ten times worse when it was a magical child. They were sacred, it was a gift from magic to be blessed with a child and Dumbledore of all people was encouraging this? Voldemort's blood boiled.

Voldemort had returned with the Dursley's to Privet Drive, still hidden away in the body of the obese muggle. The blood wards, as flimsy as they were given Petunia's lack of love for her nephew, allowed Voldemort to enter the house with no problems seeing as he meant no harm to the child.

It hadn't taken long for Voldemort to gain Harry's trust, once he'd explained that he wasn't really Vernon Dursley and that he was going to look after the boy from then on. It was only a short time later that Voldemort realised the anger Harry was hiding inside. Anger directed at his pathetic muggle relative that had systematically tortured him ever since he had been abandoned in the middle of the night on their doorstep.

It had become the Dark Lord's main priority to unleash that anger. It had been surprisingly easy once Harry had overcome his moral objections. After all, didn't they do the same to him? Didn't they deserve it for what they had done to him?

Harry was only punishing the Dursley's for three years of abuse; they'd punished him for simply existing.

By Harry's sixth birthday, Voldemort had come to view the boy as the son he'd never had. Harry had felt the same. It was on that birthday Harry had called him dad for the first time.

By Harry's tenth birthday, he knew everything about the death of the Potters. It had worried him at first that his father had once tried to kill him, maybe he would try again. That concern had quickly been shot down. Voldemort would sooner die than allowed harm to come to _his_ child. The fact that Voldemort had killed the Potters was barely even thought about. Harry didn't care. He didn't need to. Voldemort may have taken his biological parents but he'd given him back a father and he must have been better than the father that had allowed him to be placed with abusive muggles, last will and testaments were there for a reason after all.

Harry's Hogwarts letter had arrived a week before his eleventh birthday with a note for the Dursley's to make a show of keeping it and all others away from him. Voldemort hadn't of course, but Dumbledore didn't know that. Two days before Harry's birthday, another note had arrived instructing the Dursley's to take Harry to a hut on a rock in the sea. They had both scoffed at how the headmaster was trying to 'set the scene', wanting to emphasise Harry's feeling of being rescued. It was ridiculous but they did it anyway. They needed to keep Dumbledore in the dark about Harry's true alliance and that mean playing along.

So Harry had gone with Hagrid, he'd asked all the right questions, appeared sufficiently clueless about the magical world and pretended to hate Draco Malfoy after meeting him in the robes shop. He'd become friends with the people Dumbledore had set up for him to meet and been sorted into Gryffindor like a good little Boy-Who-Lived. He'd ignored all the not-so-subtle hints about the Philosophers Stone being in the school and ignored the about-as-subtle-as-an-anvil clues that pointed to Voldemort's involvement.

He already knew the stone was in the school and that Quirrell was trying to get it on his father's behalf. Harry's wilful ignorance hadn't really made much of a difference in the end. Quirrell just wasn't that strong of a wizard and had been killed in one final attempt just before the school year finished. At least that was the official story. Personally, Harry thought it was more likely Dumbledore had killed him but it wouldn't help his position to go around saying that. Dumbledore still had too much support.

And then it had been Harry's second year. Merlin, that had been a nightmare. Though it had been amusing that every other student suddenly thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. They were right of course, but he wasn't going to admit that and he wasn't the one hurting mudbloods. Though if the person responsible had come to him, he'd have helped them without a second thought.

Harry had enjoyed sitting back and watching the mayhem happen, the terror that permeated the air had Harry barely resisting a shiver. Of course, once little Ginny had been taken, Harry had been obligated to accompany his 'best friend' on the rescue mission though even that turned out to be a blessing in disguise. With Ron and Lockhart trapped in the anti-chamber, Harry was able to discover who the perpetrator was alone. The idea that it had been Ginny all along, knowingly or not, filled Harry with unholy glee.

But that pleasure was nothing compared to what he felt when he'd seen a sixteen year old Tom. He knew it was Tom straight away, how could he not? Though the young Dark Lord had been skeptical at first, finding out the boy who destroyed him was now his son, all it had taken was a magical oath for Tom to at least trust him to get the young Voldemort to the older Voldemort.

They'd waited in the Chamber of Secrets until Ginny was completely dead, then Tom had hidden under the invisibility cloak and followed Harry's instructions to get to the Shrieking Shack where he'd stayed for a week while Harry took the professors into the chamber, told them he'd found Ginny dead with the diary and finished up his last week of school. Tom, still using the invisibility cloak, had been no more than a foot away from Harry all the way from Hogsmeade station to London.

They'd waited until the platform was completely deserted before descending from the train and meeting the possessed Vernon Dursley. After that, things had been easy, with the young Tom Riddle having his own body filled with the same blood as Salazar Slytherin granted them access to the hidden Slytherin Manor. It had only taken a short yet painful ritual to merge the Voldemorts young and old into one being with the added extra of Harry's blood so it wouldn't hurt him to be near his father now that Voldemort had his own body back. He now looked like the aristocrat he was supposed to be, high cheek bones and soft hair, the only thing that had remained were the beautiful crimson eyes.

That had been the best summer Harry had ever had, they'd spent the entire holidays on the Slytherin estate studying the dark arts and just enjoying each others company as they could only see each other during the summer. Dumbledore had to believe Harry hated his relatives, which he did, but Dumbledore wouldn't think that if Harry was going home for Christmas and Easter. Voldemort had even blood adopted him that summer, with a dark ritual Harry had found the library.

Harry was already cute before he became the Dark Lord's biological son but the only way to describe him after the adoption was beautiful. His looks were too feminine to be truly handsome but he was still striking with long luscious hair, so black it shone blue in the light, a cute little button nose and full pink lips that could tempt even the most heterosexual of men. However it was his eyes that made most people loose their breath, those sparkling orbs had become even more luminous, rivalling even the brightest emerald.

Harry looked like the perfect Dark Prince.

Then had come Harry's third year and with it, the escape of Sirius Black. Voldemort had explained what the population believed about Black and how it was really Pettigrew who'd betrayed the Potters but even the Dark Lord was clueless as to why Sirius would blow up a street full of muggles.

It had only been two weeks before the end of the year when Harry had meet Sirius in the Shrieking Shack and heard the whole story. Trelawney's prediction had made sense when he fully understood what had transpired all those years ago. Harry knew the rat would make his way to Harry's father and made sure Voldemort and Nagini would both kill on sight.

As Harry and the mudblood had freed Sirius, Harry had slipped two notes into his pocket. One telling Sirius where to go and another to give to the man he would meet there. He could only hope that Sirius wouldn't throw too big of a fit over Harry's new father. Harry would hate to have to kill him, which he would do if Sirius proved too much of a problem.

***

Luckily Sirius, after his initial explosion, had accepted the situation with a surprising amount of ease. His reasoning being that he'd never fully trusted Dumbledore but he'd ignored his instinctual mistrust, pushing it aside as left over lessons from his childhood that he couldn't quite shake. He was a Black after all and had been raised to hate Dumbledore, the muggle-loving fool. But now Sirius had no problem seeing the headmaster for who he really was. Dumbledore, having cast the Fidelius charm over Godric's Hollow, knew exactly who the real secret keeper had been and had still allowed Sirius to go to prison. They speculated that this was because Sirius would be given custody of Harry and give Harry a happy life, give Harry his independence which Dumbledore couldn't allow to happen. Dumbledore needed his weapon.

The rest of the summer had passed relatively smoothly, with Sirius causing little to no problems. Although he missed James, he couldn't begrudge Harry the happiness he'd found with Voldemort even if Voldemort wouldn't have been his first choice, he couldn't deny his godson was happy. Sirius had even willing joined in the 'bonding activity' when Wormtail had finally turned up, it turned out that the Black upbringing hadn't left him as untouched as he'd first thought. He knew he had always been darker than his friends and he'd kept his opinions about Lily and other muggleborns to himself but to enjoy the pain of another human being was slightly more than he'd ever expected but it didn't matter. His dark side had been accepted and even encouraged by Harry in a way it never had been with James. James just ignored it and pretended it wasn't there. Harry accepted him for who he was. Just like Sirius would always accept and love Harry, no matter what.

Everything was going rather perfectly in Harry's opinion. Voldemort was ever so slowly summoning more and more Death Eater to meetings, establishing a solid power base before he let the world know he was back. And with Sirius around, Harry had someone to keep him company when his father was holding those meetings. Harry found almost a big brother type figure in Sirius. He was far too playful to take on a fatherly role but his age and experience made it unusual for him to be only a friend. He was made to be a big brother, or maybe a slightly insane uncle that came round and told dirty jokes.

Harry regretted telling the Weasels he'd go with them to the world cup but there was no way he could say no. He was supposed to be with abusive muggles, what neglected child wouldn't jump at the chance to go and stay with his friends?

The match itself had been interesting but if would have much preferred to be there with his father and Sirius instead of a bunch of blood traitors and a mudblood. Though he was given pause for thought when he saw a hand appear out of thin air and steal Granger's wand out of her back pocket. He couldn't hold in his smirk as he pictured the girl's face when she realised her wand was missing.

The rest of the evening been rather boring. Listening to Ron wax poetic about the Bulgarian seeker while Hermione pretended to be indifferent had not exactly been Harry idea of entertainment, but once the riot started Harry didn't know whether to be furious or amused.

It obviously hadn't been planned by the Dark Lord or Harry would have been told but he couldn't deny it was funny, he'd barely held onto his laughter as the muggle woman had been turned upside down, exposing her bloomers for all to see.

As soon as the group of teenagers reached the woods, Harry slipped away and hovered near the edge of the forest. Watching the Death Eaters toy with the muggles and duelling with the wizards trying to stop them. He could see Bill and Charlie making a show of what they were doing but anyone who stopped long enough to actually look at what they were doing would notice that their spells were 'accidentally' hitting the light sided fighters. When Harry had first met the older Weasley siblings a few days ago he could sense a darker inclination to them but this was just proof.

He tried to count the number of people in masks but they were all moving too quickly, however there couldn't possibly be more than ten. These must be still unaware of his father's return, they didn't realise how far this could set his father's plans back. Harry and his father wanted the magical world to be caught unaware. That wasn't going to happen if people like this kept popping up to cause trouble.

"Fools." Harry hissed, just the smallest bit of parseltongue slipping through, making his annoyance obvious. "Don't they realise just what they're risking?"

"And what are they risking?" Asked a voice from behind, causing Harry to whirl round, his wand already in hand and a dark curse just waiting on his lips. "And who are you really?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, scrutinizing the man before him. His was tall and thin, his clothes were of the best quality but it was obvious he didn't care too much about his appearance. His shaggy brown hair looked like it hadn't had a real cut in a great many years and it hung into intelligent brown eyes. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat and he was almost overcome with the desire to count each and every freckle on that strong nose with his tongue. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" A speculative glint entered those brown eyes as he examined the young boy who looked more like his Lord than a Potter.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, trying to get a grasp of the conversation.

"Oh, I do apologise." Said the man with a roguish grin that made Harry's heart stutter before resuming its beating at double the speed. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Barty Crouch Junior."


	2. Chapter 2

_**An:**__ Sorry but no matter what I do I can't help but picture Barty as David Tennant, the man played the part perfectly and now I can't see anyone else more suited to the role. Because of this, my Barty might have come out a bit like the Doctor. Hopefully not to much but I can just see them having a lot in common, manic grin, gleaming eyes, dishevelled hair and boundless energy. Besides David Tennant is gorgeous and doubly so as the Doctor. I have never been more envious of Harry than I am in Harry/Barty fics =D Plus we never got to see much of Barty's real personality in the books so I'm basically treating him like an OC and modelling that OC on the Doctor._

_Let me know whether or not I should continue writing this._

_Thanks!_

_Hanna xoxo_

_**Previously**__…_

"_Who are you?" Harry asked, trying to get a grasp of the conversation._

"_Oh, I do apologise." Said the man with a roguish grin that made Harry's heart stutter before resuming its beating at double the speed. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Barty Crouch Junior."_

_**Chapter Two**_

Harry's eyes narrowed. That wasn't possible.

"Barty Crouch Junior is dead." He said in a steely voice. "Now tell me, who are you?"

That grin just widened and Harry felt himself harden slightly.

"Oh, I assure you, I am very much alive." The man's eyes had almost a manic gleam and Harry couldn't help but wish that look was directed at him.

"Show me your arm." Harry commanded. Barty Crouch Jr. had been a Death Eater and the Dark Mark couldn't be faked.

"Excuse me?" The man's brows furrowed and he looked genuinely confused.

"Your left forearm." Harry barked, unwilling to let his guard down until he knew what was going on. "If you're Crouch Jr. show me your Dark Mark."

The man looked a Harry appraisingly, they were at an impasse. Both unsure of the others loyalty and so were unsure of how much was safe to reveal. Slowly and with obviously reluctance, the man reached out with his right hand to push up his left sleeve exposing the faded Dark Mark to the cool night air.

Harry cautiously moved closer and gripped the man's forearm, thumb brushing over the skull. Before the man knew what had happened, Harry had his wand tip pressed against the Mark and was hissing in a way the man had only ever heard from his Lord before.

"_**Burn**_."

The resulting fiery sensation forced the man to his knees and he had to bit his lip to keep in his gasp of pain.

"Are you loyal?" Harry hissed out in English, sounding more like his father in that moment than ever before.

"Yes. Always." The man gasped out. Harry gave the Mark another hissed instruction and the burning stopped.

"Good." He said in an almost friendly voice. "Now then." Harry tugged on the man's arm lightly, encouraging him to stand, which he did so slowly and on slightly shaken legs. Harry pulled Hermione's wand out of the man's pocket and held it out for the man to take in his left hand. Once the man had hold of it, Harry tapped his own wand once more against the Mark. Barty gaped and blinked in a slightly dazed manner as it _pulsed_, he'd never felt his Mark do that before. Only a second later Barty's face split into a wide grin and he felt the long awaited and much missed call of his Lord.

"There we go." Murmured Harry. "The mother ship is calling you home." He chuckled at the confused look on the man's face. "Never mind. Just a few things then you can go to him. We need to stop those fools from doing further damage but we must make sure I'm not implicated in the process. Now, I'm going cast a spell with your wand then you're going to stun me and apparate before anyone else gets here. Is that clear?"

Barty just nodded, too overwhelmed by what this beautiful child had done for him to answer verbally.

"Good boy." Harry, still gripping Barty's left forearm turned until his back was against the older man's chest. He slowly moved his hand down the forearm and placed it over Barty's so that it was gripping the wand with him. Barty willed his body not to react to that lithe form pressed against him.

Harry pointed the wand in the air, whispered '_morsmordre_' and, before the Mark had even finished forming, spun out of Barty's arms and was facing him again. Barty pointed the wand at the youth.

"Give him my love." Harry said with a cheeky grin, just milliseconds before that red light hit him and darkness claimed him.

,-'-,-'-,-'-,-'-,-'-,-'-,-'

When he woke again it was to the concerned faces of the blood traitors, Harry barely held in his grimace.

"How are you feeling, Harry dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, her tone was kind but Harry could see the greed in her eyes. It made him want to gut her like a fucking fish.

"I'm fine, Mrs Weasley." He replied in the sweetest tone he could muster. "Thank you for asking."

"What happened, Harry?" The mudblood demanded in that bossy, know-it-all voice of hers. He could already see her wondering how he had gotten himself into another mess.

"I- I don't know." Harry lied. "I was walking at the back of the group when someone grabbed me from behind. I was knocked out before I could react. Where was I found?"

"You were found underneath the Dark Mark, Harry!" The bitch ranted, he was right, she thought it was his own fault. "You're lucky the Aurors didn't take your head off! When they see the Dark Mark they shoot first, ask questions later!"

"What's the Dark Mark?" Harry asked, tilting his head to the side. It was annoying having to pretend not to know these things but it made life easier in the long run. He really didn't want to have to come up with whole new lies as to how he knew them.

"It's You-Know-Who's sign, mate." Ron whispered from beside him. "It was always found above places where the Death Eaters had killed someone. When we saw you lying underneath it, for a moment we thought you were dead."

Even whispered, it was obvious from Ron's tone that he wouldn't have been too bothered, had this been the case. Harry had never been a person to Ron, just a walking Galleon sign. Mrs Weasley was the same, he knew full well that she'd intended for him to marry Ginny and marry her young. If he, as an orphan, had married before he came of age then he'd have become a ward of his spouse if they were older than him, or a ward of his spouse's family if he was older, giving the parents full access to his inheritance as they became his legal guardians.

That had been Molly Weasley's intention from the second Dumbledore had approached her about befriending the Boy-Who-Lived. After all, the young saviour needed the right kind or friends and who better to represent the light than the heroic half-blood, the poor pureblood and the intelligent mudblood? Thank Salazar the woman didn't know he was gay or she'd have had him married to Ron by now. With that thought Harry barely repressed his gag reflex.

"I-I didn't know that." Harry murmured, slightly unsure as to what his reaction should be. "What does it look like?"

Mr Weasley looked at Harry with sympathy, obviously assuming that Harry was thinking about his biological parents and wondering if it was above their home. Whenever Voldemort was mentioned or anything to do with him, everyone seemed to automatically assume he'd start thinking about them. Was he really supposed to still be grieving? It had been thirteen years and it's not like he remembered them, he had all the parent he could ever need in the Dark Lord. Not that he could tell anyone yet though.

"It's a skull." He said factually. "With a snake coming out of it mouth."

Harry couldn't resist a snort. "Sounds like all it needs are flames and it could be a biker tattoo."

"Harry! That isn't funny!" Hermione shrieked at the same time everyone else wondered what a 'biker' was.

"Sorry, Hermione." He muttered, hoping that if he was quiet his expiration would be less obvious. Merlin, he wished he could find an excuse to go home but there was nothing that would be believable. No one would believe he'd willingly return to a place were he was supposed to be abused.

Harry knew that even once his father's return was announced it would still be a few years before they could acknowledge each other as anything other than enemies. He couldn't wait for that day to come. And with it the death of everyone who'd ever annoyed him. Starting with that fucking mudblood.

Harry wasn't sure how they'd managed to get him back to the Burrow while he was unconscious but he honestly didn't care enough to ask. At least they weren't in that mouldy tent anymore. It smelt like cats, it was like being back at Mrs Figg's. How many times had he come close to kicking one of those cats? Harry wondered as he packed his trunk. They were heading back to Hogwarts in a few days time and Harry hated the thought of leaving something behind in the Weasley home, they'd probably sell it as soon as they found it.

The morning of September first passed smoothly enough. Of course they were almost late for the train but that was to be expected when you had to wait for Ron to wake up enough to figure out how to put his fucking trousers on. Fucking moron. Harry wanted to smack him sometimes and he honestly didn't think anyone would blame him if he did, even the light sided idiots that were following Dumbledore like sheep. Why Ron Weasley wasn't drowned at birth was absolutely beyond him. He was the type of person only a mother could love; his siblings certainly didn't like him.

The only thing that had happened and kept Harry's interest for more than a second was the fire-call from Amos Diggory. Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody's home had been broken into the night before, or at least so he'd claimed, everyone else thought it was probably just cats that got a bit too close to the wards, however Harry knew better. But that left him with one question running repeatedly through his mind and he had no answer for it.

Why Alastor Moody? It was supposed to be a student replaced with a Death Eater. If a student hated Harry Potter, people could assume it was a petty childish grudge born out of jealously. It was easy to brush aside if a student didn't like him, but a teacher? Snape's hatred for James Potter was legendary among the older Hogwarts teaching staff, everyone had expected him to hold that grudge against Harry. But anyone else? Especially someone like Moody, who was supposed to hate dark wizards with a passion? It would be glaringly obvious that something was off if someone like Moody was displaying intense dislike for the Boy-Who-Lived.

A Death Eater teacher would make things a whole lot easier, especially if it was someone Dumbledore trusted, they'd never be suspected, but the only people available for such a long term undercover position were people who wouldn't be missed. That meant they could only choose from those few Death Eaters that had escaped Azkaban by running. There weren't many of them as most of the Death Eaters that avoided Azkaban had done so by denying the Dark Lord, and they were now known to be lining the pockets of the Ministry fat cats, making sure no laws were passed that they didn't want passed and vice versa. It would be noticed if one of them disappeared for the year.

This left them with only those Death Eaters in hiding, the ones that refused to even _pretend_ to denounce their Lord. Basically, it left the fanatical ones to choose from. And even the most obedient of them would struggle to hold their tongue around the child that had brought about the destruction of their Lord and their lives.

Did this mean whoever it was knew the truth about Harry? But that was impossible. Voldemort wouldn't have given out that kind of information, he wouldn't have taken the risk that maybe, just _maybe_, that person wasn't as loyal as they thought.

Harry got his answer during the welcoming feast. The sorting took place as normal followed by the feast, which was no where near as good as the food done by the house elves in Slytherin Manor. Elves really did work harder when they were living in fear. Then came the speech, Harry tried not growl, just the sound of that manipulative old man set Harry's teeth on edge. He tried to look surprised a long with everyone else when the Tri-Wizard Tournament was announced when in reality he'd know since he'd first got home for the summer. He barely repressed his shiver as he thought of all the mayhem this year was going to bring.

It was just as Dumbledore was about to discuss this years DADA professor when the doors were thrown open, the almighty crash that accompanied them causing several first years and Hufflepuffs as far as the eye could see to scream in terror. Harry and Ron couldn't stop laughing at them. As much as Harry despised the redhead sitting next to him there was always one thing Ron could be counted on to do, mock others. His jibes never had the same level of bite or wit as Harry's but what could he do? It not like his father was here to enjoy this with him.

Harry watched with undisguised curiosity as the man who had caused the disruption entered the Hall. His hair was grey and rather unkempt, his face was weather-beaten and riddled with scars and every time he took a step the Hall could head the resounding clunk of what could only be a wooden leg. But it was the man underneath this polyjuiced disguise that Harry wanted to see. Who did his father trust so much as to place him in such a precarious position?

It definitely wasn't the real Moody, the shape of the aura indicated that the man was taller than Moody and leaner. There was something familiar about it that Harry just couldn't place, the answer just skirting around the edge of his awareness. Harry watched, slightly baffled, as the man scanned the Gryffindor table with his magical eye. Was he looking for Harry? Harry waited with baited breath as that eye settled on him, he half expected a curse to come flying at him. He was going to be having words with his father when he got to bed later that night. Warning was appreciated!

Harry was stunned as the man sent him a wink. He couldn't help but return the roguish grin, he'd recognise that expression anywhere, even on the wrong face. He had, after all, seen it in the shower everyday for the last week. Even now he couldn't help the twitch his cock gave, closely followed by a shudder. He shouldn't be able to be attracted to Crouch in that body, it was just weird.

Harry blanked his expression as he pretended to listen to the rest of the speech, watching 'Moody', surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye as the man devoured a plate of sausages. He didn't know whether to kill his father or kiss him. Heir to the dark empire, Harry might be but he was also a teenage boy. A teenage boy with raging hormones and now the only person in this whole bloody castle he could be himself with was someone he found undeniably attractive. He'd either entered Hell or Heaven and it was going to be fun to find out which.

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Harry tried not to rush on his way to the DADA classroom, he wanted to know what had been going sine he last saw his father and if the plans had changed any more than just a different inside man. He checked the Marauder's Map again, making sure Crouch was alone in his room before he knocked on the door. It opened almost instantly to reveal the scarred face of Alastor Moody, he'd obviously been warned to expect a visit. That revolving eye immediately focused on Harry's face and Barty stepped aside. With the door closed and a silencing ward in place, Barty was down on one knee before Harry had even removed the cloak.

"Young Lord." He whispered in reverence, Harry inwardly rolled his eyes.

"Stand, Barty." Harry said, grabbing the man's elbow to help him, movement obviously wasn't as easy while in the form of a sixty year old with one leg. "You are going to be my only decent company for the next year. I'd prefer it if we were on more informal terms than 'Lord'. Call me Harry."

"Harry." Barty said, testing the word on his tongue before giving that infectious grin again causing Harry to chuckle. "Well then, Harry, follow me and please make yourself comfortable while I freshen up. Old Moody's clothes seem to be older than me and in about the same condition as this face."

Harry chuckled again and followed him through the door into his office and then on into his quarters. It was surprisingly nice if a bit bland but then Barty had only just got there, he'd probably add his own personal touches, though not too personal. He was supposed to be someone else after all. The room was decorated with warms colours of coffee and chocolate and the odd dash of creamy beige.

It was about ten minutes before Barty joined Harry on the couch, looking more like the man Harry had been thinking about for the last week. His dark blonde, almost brown hair was now cut short though it still held a sense of wildness about it, much like Harry's hair. Harry could almost imagine running his fingers through it as he rode… _no_, he shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts.

Barty was wearing a brown pinstripe suit that was considerably nicer than Moody's battle-worn rags. It was stylishly cut to flatter his trim figure and Harry couldn't help but imagine the feel of those strong but lean muscles.

"So…" Barty started and Harry wondered just which question he'd ask first, knowing the man must be full of them and wouldn't have dared ask the Dark Lord. "The great Harry Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord, became said Dark Lord's son and heir. How on Earth did that happen?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the question and the amount of curiosity in Barty's eyes as he asked it. It must have been killing him not to know. Typical Ravenclaw. He briefly toyed with the idea of not telling him but Harry really wanted this to be an easy friendship between them and that couldn't happen if Harry pulled rank and used this to tease the Death Eater. Normally Harry wouldn't care. He only had two emotional attachments in this world, to Voldemort and Nagini, and that was more than enough for him.

But as much as he hated to admit it, he got lonely during term time. He could only visit Slytherin Manor during the summer and the rest of the time he was stuck with those morons in Gryffindor Tower. But now Barty was here, he would probably end up being Harry's saving grace this year. He'd have intelligent conversation, he wouldn't have to be fake all the time and he'd have someone to go to when he wanted to be himself. He could have kicked himself for such sentimental thoughts but he was only fourteen and genuine company would be nice.

"Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?" Harry asked. Barty gave him a look, obviously unsure with how seriously to take the question.

"Are you serious?" He raised an eyebrow in question. Harry could practically hear his thoughts, _how does someone accidentally find the worst enemy?_ Or at least something to that extent. Harry laughed again.

"Yes, I'm serious." Harry said. When Barty realised he wasn't going to elaborate further he couldn't help but make a noise of impatience while gesturing for him to continue. Harry gave an exaggerated sigh but did as he was asked. "I was four years old and living with my muggle relatives but they'd gone away for the weekend…"

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**Review**

_I'm sorry to everyone that reviewed this story and fave'd it etc but I got a rather mean PM about this message not long after the first chapter went up and it completely put me off even trying to finish it. However, this was already written before the first chapter went up over a year ago and I've not read either chapter since I got that PM so please excuse any mistakes. I just thought for those that really liked chap 1 might want to see chap 2, maybe you can inspire me… or maybe I just wanted to clear out my hard drive without completely losing anything =P_

_Hanna xoxo_


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